AN: Here is chapter two of The Other Half. This chapter focuses on how Jillian and Pitch first met. I'm thinking of keeping this kind of pattern throughout the story: present day, backstory, present day, backstory, you get the picture. Anyway, at this point in the story, Jillian is about eight years old and goes by Jill. In the present day chapters, she has the physical appearance of a fifteen year old and only goes by Jillian. Before anyone freaks out about Pitch with a fifteen year old, keep in mind that she is actually about 330 and that Pitch is even older than that, so age really isn't much of a big deal for them.

This chapter takes place after Jack's death. I kind of figured Jack's little sister had had nightmares about his death for a long time. Pitch was probably spending a lot of time with her in the canon verse. Long author's note is long, lol. ~Katheryn xx

The Other Half

Chapter Two

315 years earlier

Jack had fallen under the ice.

Hours later, the men of the village found little Jill, staring at the hole in the ice like she couldn't understand why it was there. Her father knew immediately that Jack was gone and fell to his knees, head in his hands. The girl's uncle was the only brave soul who dared to cross the treacherous ice to retrieve Jill.

The rest of the men returned to their families, clapping the mourning father on his back. The brave uncle passed the still unresponsive eight year old to her papa before hugging him and heading home. The father and daughter trudged home, the father wondering how he was going to break the news to his wife. And still the daughter said nothing.

The father pushed open the door to their small home and Jill's mother jumped up at the sight of her husband and daughter.

"Oh there you are!" she exclaimed in relief. "Oh Jillian, I was so worried about you. And Jack, I thought I told you…."

Her voice trailed into silence as she noticed the absence of her brown haired son.

"Where's Jack?"

The father still held Jill as he revealed the horrible truth.

Jack was dead.

The mother fell to her feet in tears. The father merely crossed the room and drew her into his other arm. The broken family sat there, each member mourning the loss of the fun-loving boy now resting in any icy grave.

JSVJSVJSV

The water was freezing, her body feeling as if she was being pricked with tiny needles of ice. Jack was right in front of her, so close. She could pull him up this time, she knew she could. But the water felt so heavy on her, she could barely reach out a hand to Jack.

'Just a bit farther,' she thought, desperately trying to push herself through the icy water. 'Almost there, Jack; I'm almost there.'

Centimeters lay between Jill's fingers and those of her beloved brothers'. She stretched out as far as she could.

Suddenly, Jack's hand seized hers and began to pull. Jill was overcome by the force of it and began being pulled farther and farther away from the surface. Her fear rose up in waves as she felt the sting of her lungs crying out for oxygen. She kicked desperately trying to pull both herself and Jack back up to the hole in the ice, which seemed to be closing up above her.

She looked down at Jack to ask him to help her, only to see his face contorted into a look of malevolent glee. His other arm came up and grasped onto her captive one, doubling the force with which he was pulling on her, intent on dragging her into the black depths. Bubbles escaped his mouth as he laughed.

'You're not my brother,' Jill thought, staring at the travesty masquerading as her brother. She altered the angle of her kicks more towards the not-Jack dragging her down. It was a struggle, but finally she managed to kick the not-Jack in the jaw, causing him to release her leg. Then she swam as quickly as she could to the hole in the ice.

Jill woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up in her bed. She could still feel not-Jack's hands gripping her arms and she was coated in sweat, making it seem as if she truly had just burst out of the water. Her breathing was heavy, so heavy, as if she had just run a great distance.

It had been two weeks since Jack's death. The family had had a funeral performed, although there was no body. And every night since that fateful day on the ice, Jill had been plagued with nightmares. Everytime Jill closed her eyes, she was brought back to the frozen lake, to that hole in the ice, which in reality had already closed up a week a bit. It was exhausting.

The eight year old ran her hand over her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears. Her other hand still clutched her rag doll tightly, the knuckles turning white.

Fourteen days. It had been fourteen days since Jack died, fourteen days of misery for Jill. It was so much harder to deal with everything without Jack at her side, joking around and doing everything he could to make her smile. She'd had to deal with everyone's sympathy all week, which was a trial in and of itself. And then she'd had to deal with the nightmares cutting into her sleep. The eight year old girl was growing desperate; she just needed a break, an escape, just for a few hours.

Her parents were no help at all. Her mother had been inconsolable since she had heard the news, spending most of the day in her room. Her father was grieving in his own way, throwing himself into his work and only coming home when it was too dark to work. Jill's friends were keeping their distance, as was the custom of mourning. They wouldn't come around for another month at least, so as not to dishonor the memory of Jack.

But Jill was lonely. Jack had been her closest friend and without him, Jill felt isolated. All the time on her own was driving her mad and she couldn't bear the thought of it continuing for another month.

Jill swung her legs out of bed, not interested in falling back asleep only to wake again in a couple of hours. She pulled her dressing gown around her and sat at the window. The moon was partially blocked out by the clouds tonight.

"You're a very strange child."

Jill turned around quickly, startled at the voice. Heart beating a staccato rhythm in her throat, the eight year old surveyed the room.

For a moment, it seemed that no one was there, but no, wait, there. In the corner of the room, illuminated by a solitary ray of moonlight, stood the figure of a man.

He appeared to be almost cloaked in shadows, his hair nearly blending with the darkened wall behind him. The only discernible colour was the golden hue of his eyes.

"Not many children have been able to do what you just did," he continued in a conversational tone of voice. "Not many adults either. You must be very brave to face the nightmare head on."

"I-I don't know about bravery, s-sir," Jill replied in a shaky voice. "I-I just knew that that… creature in my dream wasn't my brother."

"Either way, you are a rare breed, little Jillian." The man stated calmly, taking a step forward.

Jill backed up as far as she could against the window. This man was intimidating, but she wasn't frightened of him, not truly. Somehow, her child mind knew that he wasn't what he seemed.

"E-excuse me s-sir," she asked. "W-who are you? And why are you in my room?"

The shadow-like man paused in his advance, then swept into a bow.

"Pitch Black, young miss, King of Nightmares," he introduced. "Although you would probably know me by a different title."

He looked straight into her eyes as he whispered the moniker.

"The Boogeyman."